The Secret Ingredient of Wishes

by Susan Bishop Crispell

  “Hey, Mae?” she asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Whatever happened with the pony from Vi’s birthday?”

  “Animal control came out and removed it. Said they’d had no reports of missing ponies but they took it with a promise to Vi to find it a really good home. Then she made them agree to send her the address so she could go visit it.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Yeah, well, wishes for magical unicorn-ponies don’t come true every day.”

  No, they don’t. But other wishes do.

  After she hung up with Mary Beth, she slid the wish about Ashe out from under her pillow where she’d stashed it and read the inky words. She pressed the small white strip of paper to her chest as she thought, Please let Ashe be happy.

  14

  Rachel already regretted agreeing to go to the barbecue festival with Everley. Going to an event that promised to put her in the same vicinity as Lola had her stomach in knots. When she’d granted Catch’s wish about Ashe, she hadn’t considered how Lola would react to Ashe moving on. But then she remembered how possessive Lola had seemed over Ashe the first day they’d met, and with most of the town present, there was a high probability of it blowing up in Rachel’s face.

  She stopped twice on the flagstone path that led to Everley’s door, debating what Everley would do if she didn’t show up.

  The house, like Everley’s shop, was chic and modern. The creamy honeysuckle paint was trimmed in a shocking white. The muted aqua front door added a dash of whimsy. Two rocking chairs, a small table, and an orange tabby curled in a ball on one of the cushions took up three quarters of the small front porch. The never-ending glass windows and doors reflected the well-manicured lawn.

  The six-foot hydrangea at the corner of the porch burst with dozens of clusters of pink and green flowers. The humming of a distant lawn mower mixed with the bees buzzing around the flowers in wooden planters that lined the porch steps, giving the early-afternoon air an electric feel.

  She hurried up the walk and rang the doorbell before she changed her mind.

  “You are not going to Brews N Cue in shorts,” Everley scolded when she opened the door and saw Rachel’s outfit—a pair of khaki shorts that hit mid-thigh and a faded blue T-shirt.

  “What? It’s like a hundred degrees out here,” Rachel said.

  “God, you’re such a guy. Follow me.”

  The rooms in Everley’s house whizzed by in flashes of lavender and moss and corn silk as Rachel tried to match Everley’s long strides. They ended in a coral-painted bedroom. Even with the lights off, the room glowed.

  Everley disappeared into a walk-in closet the size of Rachel’s attic room. She emerged a minute later with a pear-colored slip of fabric dangling from a wooden hanger. “You, my fashion-challenged friend, are going to wear a dress. This dress, actually.”

  “That is way too nice for me to wear,” Rachel said, letting the dress float to the floor when Everley tossed it to her. It gathered in a cool heap on her feet, the fabric spilling like grass clippings across the almost-black hardwoods. “I’ll be eating barbecue. With messy sauce. I don’t want to get anything on it.”

  “Oh, but letting it lay in a wrinkled heap on the floor is okay?” Everley asked.

  “As long as I don’t have to wear it, yes.”

  “You don’t understand. The festival is an event. All the ladies get dressed up and the guys are on their best behavior. We have a pie-eating contest, and judges pick the best barbecue, and we have a Miss Cue contest where one girl is crowned the barbecue queen for the year. It’s a big deal. You cannot go looking like that. I’m sorry. You just can’t.”

  “Why are you wearing shorts, then?” she asked.

  “’Cause I’m not dressed yet. I bought this adorable little dark periwinkle strapless dress just for today. So, pick that one up and put it on before I’m forced to do it for you.” Everley winked at her as she whirled out of the room.

  With the threat hanging in the air, Rachel did as she was told.

  There was no way to wear a bra with it, she realized, after twisting and converting her straps into every position she could think of. At least the dress’s halter straps and empire waist made it so a bra wasn’t a necessity. She heaved the top up so another centimeter of skin was covered.

  Everley came back ten minutes later in a flowy purple dress that hit a few inches below her knee. “How does this dress fit you?” Rachel asked, tugging at the band of material covering her chest. “I’m only a B cup and I’m not sure I’m going to stay in this thing.”

  “It’s not mine. Catch may have mentioned that there were exactly zero dresses in your closet,” Everley said. “So I remedied that problem.”

  “Wait, you bought this for me?”

  “And shoes too. A dress like that begs for new shoes.”

  Rachel took the box Everley handed her and slipped off the lid to reveal a pair of off-white heels with peep-toes. “Thank you, Everley. Seriously. This is beyond sweet of you. But—”

  “No, don’t you dare try and tell me you can’t accept them. Because you’re going to wear the hell out of that outfit and remind a certain someone there are other fish in the sea.”

  “What if said fish doesn’t want to be noticed?” Rachel asked. But she couldn’t stop the hitch in her breath at the thought of Ashe checking her out. This was just the type of dress Mary Beth would have forced on her too. All girlie and sexy and nothing Rachel would even look at twice. “And what if said boy finds out he’s being manipulated?”

  “He’d be smart enough to thank me.”

  * * *

  The riverfront park was swarming with people and barbecue smoke. Wisps of white furled up from large black cookers, saturating the muggy air with the scent of charcoal and tangy spices. Blankets, chairs, and bodies covered so much of the grass that the small bits of green that poked through looked like a trick of the light.

  Rachel hung around the periphery while Everley trudged into the masses, hugging every other person she passed. Rachel recognized a few faces as customers from the shop. She waved to Miss Lavender-Buttermilk-Hand-Cream. Exchanged hellos with Mrs. Peppermint-Salt-Scrub. Then she pretended to be engrossed in the handwritten menus nailed to posts at each booth. She read a few just in case anyone asked her about them: Pulled pork sandwich. Pork plate. Pork shoulder. Pork butt. Pork ribs.

  “Don’t y’all have some beef brisket anywhere?” Rachel asked when Everley emerged from the crowd.

  “Blasphemy!” Everley said, laughing. “Old Eddie always enters a Texas style. He comes in dead last every year.”

  “Is his barbecue that bad?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

  Holding her hand out, Rachel kept Everley from walking away before she could explain. “But don’t you vote for the best? How can you do that if you didn’t even try one?” Rachel asked.

  Everley gave Rachel a pitying look and chuckled. “No self-respecting North Carolinian wants beef. Or tomato-based sauce. But he’s down at the end, there. The only one without a line. I’m sure he’d enjoy the company.”

  “I’m sure I would too,” Rachel said. She took two steps in his direction and stopped. Ashe was a few yards away talking to Jamie and a cluster of guys she recognized from the crew working on the addition to Everley’s store. The low rumbling of their voices as they talked about some game they wanted to watch that night carried back to her.

  “What’s up with you and Ashe?” Everley asked. “Did you have a fight or something?”

  “We’re fine,” Rachel replied, too fast.

  “Liar,” Everley said.

  Rachel glanced at Ashe again. He looked happy, but she didn’t know if that was due to Catch’s wish or because it hadn’t taken effect yet. She grabbed Everley’s arms, backing them both up a few steps, and figured she could give Everley some part of the truth. “Fine. I think, like you, Catch is trying to set us up. Or at least put the notion in his head that maybe he shoul
d be interested in me.”

  Everley cocked her head and looked at Rachel curiously. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

  “I don’t want him to like me because you or Catch wishes he would.” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to like her in that way at all.

  “I don’t think it works like that. Plus, boy’s got the googly eyes over you in that dress.” Everley nodded to where Ashe and Jamie stood in the middle of the crowd watching them. “Can’t say I blame him. You look fantastic. Just like I knew you would.”

  “Thanks,” Rachel said, resisting the urge to tug the low neckline up again.

  “In case you’re curious, he looks damn good under those clothes.”

  “I’m not.” Once Everley’s admission sank in, Rachel whipped her head around to stare at her friend. “Wait, how do you know that?”

  “He used to spend the night when Lola and I lived together in college. I walked in on him in the shower a few times. The first time was an accident.”

  “You’re bad,” Rachel said, laughing. “And the others?”

  “Like I said, he looks good naked.” Grinning at Rachel, Everley gave her a gentle nudge. “Go get him, girlie. I’m betting he’d have you out of that dress in five minutes if given half the chance.”

  Rachel thought of Catch’s wish and felt guilty for wanting it to come true. For wanting what Everley pushed her to do. “This damn thing is suctioned on. I don’t think anyone’s gonna get me out of it without a good pair of pliers.”

  When Everley burst out laughing and sagged into her side, Rachel gripped her hand to keep her from toppling over. Her heels sank into the soft ground from the weight.

  “Oh. My. God,” Everley managed between breaths. “I just had the best image of the two of you trying out a whole set of his tools.” She fanned herself with her free hand.

  “Ladies,” Ashe said as he and Jamie walked over to them. His smile was quick, charming. The sleeves of his linen shirt were rolled up, exposing pale hairs on his forearms that stood out on his tanned skin.

  Rachel looked away, suddenly longing for her shorts and tee.

  Why the hell am I nervous? It was just Ashe. Just Ashe looking at her in a dress she had no business wearing. Back home she did everything she could to blend in—jeans and T-shirts, hair pulled into a simple ponytail, thin application of black eyeliner and mascara. Even Mary Beth had a hard time getting her in anything else. But a month around Everley and she was walking around in a dress and heels.

  Everley wrapped her arm around Jamie and playfully kissed his neck. “Hi, cutie,” she said, wiping the smear of lipstick from Jamie’s dark skin.

  “Sounds like I missed something good,” Ashe said. He stood close enough to touch Rachel, and the memory of Catch’s wish had her stomach twisting in knots when his eyes slid over her dress.

  “Oh, you did. Believe me,” Everley said.

  “And you’re not gonna share?”

  “And risk it not happening? Not on your life.” She winked at Rachel.

  Rachel’s eyes flicked to Ashe’s lips quirked up in amusement. “No,” Rachel managed, shaking her head. “Just no.”

  “Suit yourself.” Everley curled her fingers around Ashe’s forearm and pulled him a step closer. “Our girl Rachel here wants to go sample Old Eddie’s barbecue,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Ashe groaned and hung his head. “Of course she does,” he said.

  “Didn’t you tell her no one eats that?” Jamie asked.

  “She won’t listen. Mind taking her over there? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

  “I can take myself,” Rachel protested.

  “Uh-uh,” Ashe said, “you’re not going anywhere in that dress alone. Half the male population’s already talking about asking you to marry them. You’re safer with me.”

  She scanned the crowd and found more than a few men smiling at her. Ashe’s dad inclined his head in her direction and lifted a plastic cup in greeting. She gave him a hesitant smile in return, then turned back to Ashe. “Am I?” she asked.

  Ashe raised his hands in the air, palms facing her. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  Rachel heard Everley mumble something that sounded a lot like please don’t.

  She wrenched her heels from the dirt and motioned toward the food.

  The searing sunshine and the oppressive heat from the grills made her feel light-headed. The wooziness intensified until her vision grayed at the edges. “May I?” she asked, pointing at Ashe’s cup.

  He handed it to her, letting his fingers trail down her wrist when he let go. She shivered.

  The sweet tea was cool and had a hint of orange. She sucked on a piece of ice and passed the cup back. “Thanks.”

  “Pick your hair up,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Your hair. Lift it up.”

  When she didn’t move fast enough, Ashe gathered her hair in one hand and twisted it off her neck. He rolled the side of the cup along the back of her neck, letting the condensation dribble down the plastic to collect in large beads on her skin. He laughed when she sucked in a breath.

  Rachel jerked away from the cold and wound up pressed against his chest. The momentary relief the ice provided evaporated as his arm snaked around her waist and kept her from backing up again.

  “No need to get all worked up. I’m just trying to keep you from passing out. Now hold still.”

  Ashe moved his hand back to her neck but didn’t put any more distance between their bodies. Rachel held her breath. It did nothing to calm her racing pulse. She concentrated on the cold seeping into her skin and let her head drop to his chest as the dizziness receded.

  “I’m okay,” she said after a minute. Stepping back, she coaxed his hand away from her hair and let it fall back around her shoulders in a wavy cascade.

  He tucked a strand behind her ear, trailing his fingers along her jaw. “You look like you’ll live. Though if you’re still thinking about getting barbecue from Eddie I’m not sure how long that’ll last.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rachel said.

  He kept his hand on her back as they walked toward the last food tent. Smoke saturated the air so every breath tasted like hickory and greasy meat and charred corn husks. He stiffened next to her, his hand slipping from her back. Lola stopped a few feet away, eyes narrowing for a second before she hid the expression behind a wide smile. The cap sleeves of her pale yellow dress fed into a sweetheart neckline that made her look like a 1950s starlet.

  “Well, hey, y’all,” Lola said. “Don’t you two look cozy. Rachel, I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu. I swear you’re the spitting image of this girl I saw years ago, except she had hair so black you’d think the devil himself had painted it.”

  Rachel ran a shaky hand through her hair. Strands, slick with sweat, clung to her neck. She’d only had dark hair for a week when she was seventeen before her mom threatened to shave her head if she didn’t turn it back. That was a few months before her mom had died. And Rachel’s guilt for driving her mother mad with stories of Michael still colored everything she did.

  If Lola knew about her hair, then she probably knew about her mom and Michael and what she could do with wishes.

  She met Lola’s stare, wondering how in the hell Lola knew, and saw recognition flash in her brown eyes. She racked her brain, wondering if she had met Lola somewhere before she came to Nowhere.

  “What do you want, Lola?” Ashe asked.

  “I’m just trying to be civil. That’s what you want, right?”

  “That’s not what you’re doing and you know it.” He turned to Rachel, touching a hand to her shoulder. “You ready to eat?” he asked her.

  “Sure,” she said, her heart still racing, though she wasn’t sure exactly why.

  Ashe guided them around the throngs of hungry people brandishing cobs of corn with a good two inches of stalk still attached that they used as handles, and plates piled high with pulled
hunks of meat smothered in runny clear sauce that was nothing like the sauce she was used to.

  Rachel tugged at the straps of her dress again, suddenly feeling so out of place.

  There was no line at Eddie’s booth. He was propped up on an upside-down pickle bucket, legs stretched out in front of him. Eyes closed, he didn’t notice them come up. Ashe kicked his foot. Eddie jolted awake, catching himself before he fell off the bucket, and said, “Ready to try the festival’s only real barbecue?”

  “Looks like you’ve got a taker,” Ashe said to him when he straightened. “Our girl here isn’t a fan of North Carolina style.”

  Eddie’s smile was quick and crooked. He was missing his left incisor. Clapping his hands together, he said, “Best news I’ve heard all day. What can I do you for, darlin’?”

  “Brisket on a plate. No bun. Lots of sauce. The hotter the better.”

  “Girl after my own heart,” he said. He patted a hand on his chest. “And what about you, Ashe? Dare to try the best barbecue this side of the Mississippi?”

  “Now that’s a bold statement, Eddie. But I’ll try it. See what you’re always going on about. I want mine in sandwich form, if you don’t mind.”

  “Coming right up.”

  When Ashe turned to look at her, she crossed her arms over her chest. He wasn’t leering, but the way his eyes roamed over her bare shoulders and down her legs made her fidgety.

  “I don’t see it,” he said after a minute.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The black hair. I mean, the blond fits you. I could maybe even see you as a light brunette, but definitely not that dark.”

  Rachel cocked her head and asked, “You don’t think so?”

  “No.” He took their plates when Eddie was finished loading them down with fixings—beans with hunks of bacon, coleslaw, and a thick slab of grilled toast for Rachel’s plate.

  She took her plate from Ashe and inhaled. It smelled like home—rich, tangy, and sweet. She would’ve started eating it as they walked if Ashe hadn’t stashed the plasticware and napkins in his pocket. She made her way to a table set up underneath the canopy of branches of an ancient oak tree. The leaves rustled in the breeze, the light soft and green as it filtered through the branches. And cool. For the first time in an hour, her breaths came easily.